Custom Is A Second Nature, And No

Ignorance Is The Softest Pillow On Which A Man Can Rest His Head.

Not Because Socrates Said So, But Because It Is In Truth My Own Disposition — And Perchance To Some Excess — I Look Upon All Men As My Compatriots, And Embrace A Pole As A Frenchman, Making Less Account Of The National Than Of The Universal And Common Bond.

Sometimes It Is A Good Choice Not To Choose At All.

We Find Ourselves More Taken With The Running Up And Down, The Games, And Puerile Simplicities Of Our Children, Than We Do, Afterward, With Their Most Complete Actions; As If We Had Loved Them For Our Sport, Like Monkeys, And Not As Men.

I Do Not Understand; I Pause; I Examine.